My first Marinka fic! I hope you all enjoy it. Based on an AU prompt floating around tumblr, in which a person doesn't see colors until they meet their soulmate (and they lose their colors when their soulmate dies). Thanks to serendipily (on tumblr) for being my pseudo-beta. You're the best. :)

I apologize for any grammar or spelling errors that may pop up in this fic. You can expect them to disappear over time.

Makoto has seen colors for as long as he can remember. His childhood memories are full of cerulean oceans and light blue skies, of green trees and emerald buds.

Haru has colors, too.

Makoto loves to watch Haru paint, in shades of blue and green, blue and green, over and over and over. The blue of the ocean on a clear day is Haru's favorite while Makoto's lies somewhere in between the two colors, like the sea foam green he sees in the tide pools at just the right time of day or the deep teal Haru creates with paints and crayons.

Makoto doesn't think much of the fact that having colors so early in his life means he's already met his soulmate. He's heard his parent's whispering with their friends about how blessed he is to have seen colors so soon, but what a shame that he'll probably never find out who it was that gave them to him—Makoto isn't very concerned with whether or not he finds his soulmate, though. After all, some people never do, living life in shades of grey. Some people ignore their "soulmate" altogether, perfectly content with someone else, with falling in love and living with or without colors. Some people, like Makoto, get their colors too early in life to know what it means, or in crowded shopping centers or trains, where it's almost impossible to know who it was you were supposed to share your life with in the mess of rushing people. These people usually fall in love with someone, not knowing if the person they found was, by chance, their soulmate until they pass away, waiting to see if they lose their colors along with the one they love.

But Makoto is only six. He has Haru and he has colors, and that's all he thinks he'll ever need.

. . . . .

It isn't until his eighth birthday, when his mother asks him if he prefers the red shirt or the yellow one, that he realizes something is wrong. He picks the darker one; it will go better with the green shorts he's just pulled from his drawer. She laughs sweetly, saying he can't wear those colors together—they'll clash, such a bright shirt with those lime green shorts—but he doesn't understand. Both of the shirts she's holding should be fine, one just slightly darker than the other.

The smile falters on her face. She looks confused and panicked, before she pulls out another shirt, this one bright blue, his favorite shirt.

"Makoto, honey, what color is this?"

"Blue."

She sighs in relief, holding the shirt to her chest.

"Oh, thank God, sweetie. I would hate for you to lose your colors so soon."

Makoto nods quietly, still confused, staring at the discarded grey shirts his mother had dropped.

"But those aren't supposed to be grey?"

She stares down at him, brows pulled together in confusion as she bends to pick up the shirts from the floor and hands the soft blue shirt to him with a heavy sigh.

"No… And I don't know why they are, Makoto. But I'll ask your dad, alright, love? Don't worry though, today we're going to celebrate your birthday and have a wonderful day."

The doorbell rings and Makoto knows it's Haru. He bounds down the stairs to meet him and forgets all about his mother's worried smile for the rest of the day.

A week later, when Haru's just settling into his spot atop Makoto's bed after school, Makoto pulls the same shirts out of his closet, remembering how his mother had shoved all the grey ones behind his other shirts.

"Haru, what colors are these?"

Haru looks between the shirts and Makoto's face, one eyebrow raised.

"Is this a joke, Makoto?"

"No, Haru-chan, I'm serious."

He huffs at the nickname and crosses his arms before pulling the books out of his backpack.

"They're grey. One's darker than the other. Why?"

Makoto smiles at the statement and puts his shirts back.

"I guess they're supposed to be different colors. Red and yellow, actually. My mom looked kind of worried when she realized I couldn't see them, but if you can't see them either, it can't be bad, right?"

Haru stares at Makoto for a moment more, confusion and curiosity just peeking out from behind his stoic expression, before nodding and looking down at his math homework.

Makoto doesn't say anything else, smiling lightly, as he crosses to his bed and sits beside Haru.

. . . . .

"Haru can't see them either."

"Hmm? What was that, sweetie?"

"Haru can't see yellow or red or anything other than blue and green tones, too."

His parents don't look as relieved as he thought they would when he tells them at dinner. After how worried his mom was on his birthday, he thought they'd be happy to know he wasn't the only one who couldn't see all the colors. Instead, Makoto's mother stands and leaves the room. He hears her voice coming from the kitchen, and he knows she must be talking to Haru's mom.

For the first time, Makoto worries about his soulmate and what it could mean to only have blues and greens.

. . . . .

Makoto's world comes into full color at a swimming meet when he's twelve. He jolts and slips, tumbling to the cool, wet floor, frantically searching the pool deck for anyone who might be as hopelessly disarmed by new colors as he is, but there are too many people for him to sort through, too many voices, too many colors.

A pale (but not grey) hand appears in his field of vision as Haru calmly looks over the boys and girls scattered around them. Makoto takes the warm hand in front of him, heart racing, because all he can think of is how beautiful Haru looks in every color, the blue of his eyes (which Makoto has always seen, but somehow seems more vibrant), the colors he can't name yet (but must be some version of yellow and red, right?) filling his skin and coloring his cheeks. His heart pounds in his chest and it is terrifying and warm all at once.

But—

Haru isn't the reason for the full color palette before him. His soulmate is one of the boys or girls from an opposing team, flitting about the pool, and he should want to find them. Instead, he can't push away the disappointment that anchors him to the floor when he thinks of spending his life with someone else, someone other than Haru. Makoto's feelings don't make sense and he can feel the tears burning in his eyes when Haru's hand tightens around his own.

"There are too many..."

Makoto wipes at his eyes, unsure of what Haru means.

"Too many what, Haru-chan?"

"I can't figure out who it was."

Makoto's chest tightens.

"Can you—can you see them too?"

Haru nods his head, looking down at Makoto then, gaze widening with a sharp intake of breath, and for a second, Makoto wonders what he looks like in full color.

"Are you…are you going to look for them?"

Haru looks away and despite the heavy feeling in his chest, Makoto likes the way Haru's face fills with more color; it suits him somehow. His hand tightens around his own and Makoto finally allows himself to be pulled up with Haru's help.

"No. We're fine like this."

. . . . .

The boy with stunning red hair crashes into their lives and makes more of a splash than Makoto could have ever expected. He learns his name is Rin, he's just transferred to their school, and he's joined their swim club. He has a girly name, just like Makoto, Haru, and Nagisa, and immediately inserts himself into their routine.

Makoto doesn't mind one bit.

Rin's presence shifts something in his life just as it does Haru's, and suddenly things just seem brighter. He adopts some of Rin's fire, pushes himself a little further, drawn to his flame just as he finds himself pulled by Haru's tide. A missing gear clicks into place when Rin joins their group and Makoto's never been happier.

It's during a sleepover weeks later that the topic of soulmates comes up.

After shared popsicles and runs home from swim club, after romantic drabbles supplied by Rin have become the norm and Haru's impassive stares start to fade ever so slightly, Rin tells them in the dark of Makoto's room.

"It's one of you, but I… I don't know which one of you it is yet."

Makoto's jaw drops open and his heart begins to pound in his chest, urging him to sit up in the otherwise dark room.

"How don't you know?!"

Rin sits up too, casually pulling his legs into his chest when he realizes Makoto's staring at him, wide-eyed and maybe a bit overeager. Haru sighs before lazily forcing himself out of the embrace of his blanket and crossing his legs.

"It was at the swim meet a few weeks ago. You were both standing together and I happened to look over at you two and boom! Colors."

"But you don't remember when they kicked in? Do you remember who you looked at first?"

"No, Makoto, if I knew, I would've told you!"

Rin could be his soulmate. He could be the one who had painted the missing colors into Makoto's life. The thought makes Makoto's stomach flutter.

"It's… it's part of why I transferred to Iwatobi, actually. I don't want to be without my soulmate, ya know? And since I know it's one of you, this way we can grow up by each other's sides. It's romantic, right?" Rin's sweet, shark-toothed smile practically lights up Makoto's room, but as quickly as it comes, it slips into a hesitant shadow of his smile, like he's debating his next question. "But…shouldn't one of you have gotten your colors then too?"

Makoto eyes Haru's at that, searching his face for his approval, his permission, to share their secret with Rin.

"Um, well. It's a little hard to explain…"

Makoto can just barely make out the shake of Haru's head, but he takes it as his cue not to speak. It hadn't started out as some secret between them, but as they grew older, learned that their half-palettes were not the norm, it became easier to pretend that they had all of their colors, to differentiate between the shades of grey that were supposed to be yellow or red, to simply stay silent.

"We both saw colors at the meet," Haru supplies.

It isn't a lie, but it's not entirely the truth. Makoto doesn't like it, but it's not only his secret to share.

"So…it really could be either of you… Well, I guess you're both stuck with me until we figure it out then!" Rin flops back onto his futon, turning over and away from Makoto's and Haru's watching eyes.

We should tell him.

Makoto's sure Haru can read him, even in the dark. He doesn't know why he feels like it's so important for them to tell Rin, but it bothers him that they're staying silent. One of them is Rin's soulmate while the other isn't, it's that simple; yet, Makoto thinks he would want to know if his soulmate was already able to see some colors before they met.

Some other time. With that look, Haru falls back onto his futon and curls into his blankets.

Okay, Haru-chan. Whenever you're ready.

. . . . .

Haru almost drowns.

Makoto is terrified, shaking at the sight of the nearly lifeless body that looks too much like Haru but can't be Haru, with Rin frozen in place behind him. He's terrified of losing Haru, terrified of living without his best friend by his side, and terrified of the fact that his colors, his cherished blues and greens, fade in and out around him.

On the bus ride home from the hospital, Rin speaks first.

"It's Haru."

Something cold runs through Makoto then, like a tentacle wrapping around his heart, dragging him beneath the water he loves and fears. He can't breathe properly, but he plasters a smile on his face and plays dumb because it hurts.

"What do you mean?"

Rin sees right through it.

"Haru's my soulmate. The colors… they kept flickering when he was…well. You know. But he's my soulmate." He almost sounds apologetic, the way he says it. Makoto's reluctant to analyze why, the ache in his chest worse than he'd ever expected.

Makoto swallows the lump in his throat, swallows the words trying to break free from the prison of his mouth – but mine did too, my colors flickered too! – but Rin changes topics, focusing on how worried he was about Makoto, how badly Makoto shook in the face of Haru—Rin's soulmate—nearly dying.

He feels brittle and bare, like the shaking he experienced earlier had rid him of all of his security, his protective layers. Maybe he'd grown too attached to the idea that he and Haru would be fine by each other's sides without their soulmates. Maybe he'd let himself grow too attached to the possibility that he was Rin's soulmate. No amount of preparation he's given himself, however, softens the blow of being the one left out while his two best friends found each other.

Makoto smiles and stays quiet the rest of the way home.

It's Haru. [Rin's going to tell Haru as soon as he's better.]

It's Haru. [They'll both be happy.]

It's Haru. [Why couldn't it have been him?]

. . . . .

It's just him and Rin this time, sitting on the steps to the shrine, the setting orange sun covering them in a warm haze. Rin stands apart from him, wondering aloud about Haru's reluctance to swim in the relay and his obsession with swimming free.

Makoto replies at some point, but his own thoughts are leaving a thick trail of fog in his head. He's had almost too much time to think about things he doesn't quite understand, like feeling the slightest bit jealous that Rin and Haru found each other, that Makoto wasn't Rin's soulmate and that he wasn't Haru's soulmate either, but still being…incredibly happy for them. He's seen the way Rin smiles at Haru and the way Haru responds to Rin. They fit with each other, a perfect set of opposites, like fire and water, day and night. He wants his friends to be happy.

"Why are you so obsessed with swimming in a relay?"

"Me?" Rin's eyes flick to his, shimmering like rubies against the sky, and Makoto wonders when his crush on Rin started, snuck up on him and took a seat next to his never-wavering crush on Haru. He wonders what it would be like to have his feelings returned.

"I…" But there's more to that glint in Rin's eyes, and Makoto knows something is off, there's something Rin's not telling him. "Well, I have my reasons."

A week later, Rin tells them he's leaving for Australia under the barren branches of their school's sakura tree. Haru responds with a grimace, with anger, and Makoto worries that Haru's teetering on the edge of something dangerous, of shutting down and slipping away with Rin's departure.

He feels like he's losing both of them.

. . . . .

Makoto learns that finding your soulmate doesn't guarantee much of anything, other than finally giving you the ability to see colors.

Some people experience unrequited love. One person sees another as their soulmate, but the other doesn't see colors in return. Some people have platonic soulmates, someone they're meant to have in their lives but only as a friend.

He doesn't know which applies to him and Haru, but he knows his feelings for his friend are trending toward the unrequited side of things when he starts dreaming about Haru's eyes and lips and everything, starts feeling too much at the sight of Haru's rarely shared smiles, starts hoping for more.

Dreaming about Haru he can understand—his colors wouldn't have faded when Haru almost drowned if he wasn't tied to Haru in some way—but when he starts dreaming about red hair just as often as black, of sparkling crimson eyes instead of shimmering blue, almost two years after Rin's left them—that burns him up with guilt because —

Rin is Haru's and Haru is Rin's.

And even though Rin's still gone, still in Australia, no amount of distance will change that fact.

. . . . .

Everything's twisted when Rin returns.

Rin hates them, hates Haru, and Makoto doesn't know how to fix things despite his best efforts. Maybe he'd be better able to fix whatever had broken between them if he knew what had caused this anger, this tension, in the first place.

On a Thursday afternoon, hunched over Haru's living room table, staring at math problems neither quite understands, Makoto begins to ramble in that way of his, the type of "conversation" he's honed from so many otherwise silent moments with Haru. At first it's about Rei and Nagisa's miraculous discovery of each other, how exciting it is to see their friends adjust to a world of stunning colors, before it slowly slips to the touchy topic of Rin.

Why didn't Rin want to see them? What had they done to make him hate them? What happened in Australia?

"I told him I already had some colors before we met."

Makoto drops his pencil, staring up at his blue-eyed best friend.

"When did that happen?"

"He came to visit around New Year's sometime after he left. I ran into him and I told him then."

A pang of hurt pierces his chest when he wonders why he's never heard about this before. Was this when Haru started changing, started sinking further and further into himself, too? Did telling Rin about his colors and Rin's subsequent response cause him to do that? Haru knows him too well, can see the questions playing out on his face.

"Did he…Was he upset?"

Haru looks away, glancing off to the side like he's unwilling to dwell on this topic for any longer than necessary.

"He was upset I hadn't told him when he confessed to me. He wanted to know why I already had some colors and what that meant. I couldn't give him an answer, you and I don't even know why it's like that, but he didn't...He thought it meant he wasn't my soulmate."

"Haru…"

But when Haru looks back at Makoto, the openness that had appeared in his gaze is gone, their conversation over.

Makoto isn't sure if he wants to know if Haru told Rin that Makoto had half of his colors as well. On one hand, from Haru's perspective, it may have seemed like a way to pacify Rin, but Makoto knows, knows that somehow he's tied to Haru and that Rin would probably make that connection too.

The idea of Rin, romantic, exuberant Rin, feeling like he's somehow been duped by fate, strikes him hard in the chest, makes him ache.

He later finds out about the race Coach Sasabe witnessed, the way Rin lost to Haru, the way he crumbled and pushed Haru away when he reached out to him. Despite Makoto's ineptitude with math, when it comes to Rin and Haru, it's painfully easy to put two and two together.

. . . . .

"Rin? It's me, Makoto."

I wish it didn't feel like I'm calling a stranger.

"We're starting up a swim club."

I wish you'd speak to me.

"So you should join the swim team."

I wish you'd give it another chance.

"We might get to swim together at a tournament."

I miss you. We miss you.

. . . . .

When Makoto wakes on the beach, coughing up water, he doesn't expect to see Haru staring at him in shock and relief, his hands clutching his shoulders.

Makoto's known about his feelings for Haru for years, knows he loves his best friend as something more, and in moments like these, he wants nothing more than to tell him. The idea is warm and hazy in his head when he fully regains consciousness and sees Haru's beautiful blue eyes staring into his own. He decides he doesn't care who his soulmate is or isn't supposed to be, he's going to stay by Haru's side as long as he can, in whatever capacity he can.

If it's not you…It's meaningless without you, Haru.

He expects that his statement will fall on deaf ears or, at most, Haru will give the slightest response, maybe a nod or a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

He doesn't expect Haru to pull him into his arms, physical affection beyond Makoto's hand pulling Haru out of the pool a rarity between them. Makoto's shocked, to say the least, but he slides his arms around Haru, closes his eyes, etches every second of this moment into his memory, and waits for him to speak.

"They disappeared."

Makoto's eyes flash open and he knows Haru can feel the way his body tenses with his words.

"Haru…?"

"The blues and greens, Makoto. You were lying on the beach, and they were gone. The ocean was grey. I…You almost…You're…"

Makoto pulls back then, allowing just the slightest amount of distance between them so he can look at Haru, feel the way Haru's labored breaths ghost over his cheek. He's never told him, never confessed what happened when Haru almost drowned, but now seems like as good a time as any.

"Mine did too. When we were twelve."

And Makoto knows they'll need to talk about Rin, about the fact that both of them found their missing colors through other people, but for one moment, he lets himself be selfish, lets himself press his salt-water chapped lips to Haru's, and lets himself soak in the knowledge that this isn't just unrequited or platonic, no, he's found his soulmate.

And it's Haru.

When he pulls away, he knows he'll cling to that moment, cherish it in the face of something wholly unknown. He sees Rei and Nagisa running toward them, and asks the question before it can drift away with the tide.

"What about…?"

"If he wants to be a part of our lives again, then he can be."

Makoto nods his head and lets his friends distract him from the rush, the absolute astonishment and relief at being Haru's soulmate, and the little voice that tells him he's on the right track but not quite there…

. . . . .

The discovery that they're soulmates changes little in their day-to-day dynamic. Makoto pulls Haru from his tub every morning with kisses interspersed throughout the process. He takes Haru's hand without hesitation, lets Haru rest his head on his shoulder when he drifts during lunch time, and embraces whatever Haru is willing to initiate.

Neither pushes for more. It's not a question of if the other wants to go further, no, Makoto knows he wants to and if Haru's response to just chaste kisses is any indication, he's confident Haru wants more too, but… They stay within the realm of only mildly heated make-out sessions and mostly innocent touches. Although they don't talk about it openly, they read each other well enough to know why.

They need to talk to Rin.

When Regional's rolls around, they resolve to tell him about everything—the half-palettes they shared, the fact that Makoto is also Haru's soulmate, and what both of them want—and if Rin wants nothing to do with them, they'll all move forward.

Neither of them wants "no" to be Rin's answer.

. . . . .

They don't ask him directly, but he sees Nagisa's and Rei's slightly worried glances when the dust settles after the relay.

What does this mean?

What will they do?

Honestly, Makoto doesn't quite know either, but when Rin throws his arms around Makoto's and Haru's shoulders, something tells him that Rin will want to be a part of Haru's life again, a part of his life again.

Later than night, when the celebrations have calmed and everyone has left Haru's house, Rin almost sheepishly lingers with Makoto and Haru on the porch overlooking Haru's backyard, the three of them nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. The night is quiet, the chirping of cicadas and the soft whir of a floor fan from the adjoining room the only sounds to keep them company. It's strange still, seeing Rin, who used to be so full of happy energy, be this subdued. Twelve-year-old Rin never questioned his place in their friendship, but Makoto can see Rin trying to find where he fits in their lives after so many years, like he's trying to gauge if even sitting beside them like this is alright.

"We missed you, Rin." Makoto's the one known for saying embarrassing things (even though he knows Rin and Haru are just as inclined to share his mushy sentiments, despite how much they deny it), so he may as well use that as his excuse and start the conversation that's looming over them.

Rin's gaze snaps away from the ant he was intently staring at and up to Makoto's open smile. There's a flash in Rin's eyes again, like the one Makoto remembers from when they were younger, one that's vulnerable and worried and full of too many emotions for Makoto to process in the second it's there. Rin changes quickly, though, his gaze hardening as he pull his arms up and over his head in a stretch and lowers himself to lie on the floor, legs dangling off the edge of the porch.

"Of course you did, I'm the one with all the energy around here! What did you guys even do without me around?"

"You know what he means." Haru's voice is strangely quiet, the blue in his eyes shifting through vivid shades of ocean and sky.

"I know what he means, Haru, I was just…" The bite in his voice dies out as he looks from Haru to Makoto wearily. Rin sighs, before pushing himself back up, staring hard at the cool ground beneath them. "Just tell me what's going on."

Makoto watches as Haru slowly takes in a breath, hoping the nervousness he feels coming from him doesn't keep him from speaking. Instead, Rin's voice pricks his attention, drawing their focus to him.

"If this is some 'we're together even though you're soulmates'-type shit, you don't have to tell me. It was pretty obvious something was going on with you two before this, and it's fine if you want that, but I don't need my hand held through it, okay, I'm not—"

He doesn't get to finish speaking; Haru cuts him off, slipping one hand up to clasp the side of his face gently as he kisses him. With the way Rin melts into Haru, slides his own hand into Haru's hair to deepen their first kiss, it's so apparent that this is what Rin wants, what they both want, that if it wasn't for the hand that had intertwined itself with Makoto's and the way it tightens around his, Makoto would maybe feel jealous. Maybe, if he wasn't so nervous about what's coming next and the possibility of Rin rejecting what is bound to sound like a crazy idea.

When they break apart, Rin's face is flushed and the smile he wears while he catches his breath is stunning. Haru's small grin and the dusting of pink on his cheeks are just as beautiful.

"You're my soulmate, Rin. I want you in my life and want to be a part of yours," Haru slips his hand into Rin's and a beat of silence falls between them, before Haru slightly raises the hand holding Makoto's. "Makoto's my soulmate, too."

Rin's eyes go wide at that, but he doesn't look upset. He's quiet for a moment, looking between his hand in Haru's and the one holding Makoto's. "So…when we were twelve…?"

Makoto releases a heavy puff of air, his heart pounding in his chest, his free hand moving to the back of his neck in an outward show of nervous energy. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I just didn't know what to do."

Rin nods, the pieces slowly fitting together, flicking his gaze back to Haru. "So the reason that you already had half of your colors when we met—"

"Was because I already knew Makoto." Haru supplies, searching Rin's face for any trace of upset of hurt, but they aren't there yet, at least.

He feels Haru's grasp tighten on his hand in support. Now it's his turn.

"Rin…we were wondering if that was—if you're okay with it being the three of us. You and I may not be soulmates, but I've always…I've always loved you too, Rin." Makoto's probably crushing Haru's hand right now and he tells himself to loosen his grip, but the seconds that tick by while Rin processes what Makoto's just said feel painfully long. Rin looks at Haru momentarily and Makoto wonders if this is what it's like watching when he and Haru slip into their own world, before Rin's gaze locks with Makoto's and a sharp-toothed smile breaks free.

"So I guess I'm stuck with the both of you then."

Makoto's grip on Haru's hand finally goes slack, the air rushing from his chest and he smiles. Even Haru slumps a little as the tension releases from his body, a relieved smile on his face. Rin moves then, bare feet plodding across the short space of green grass to stand in front of Makoto. He leans down to his level, closing the gap between them, and even though Makoto knows what he's going to do, he still says it just before Rin's lips meet his.

"As long as you want both of us."

He can feel Rin's words on his lips, his breath light and warm.

"I always did."

. . . . .

They try to take things slowly, learning how to read each other in a new way. They agree that they should figure out how they work in a relationship, emotionally, before they jump head first into the physical.

That lasts for about a week.

Rin joins them at swim practice and offhandedly says he wants to leave bite marks down Makoto's rippling expanse of a back when they start changing. He blushes when he realizes what he's said aloud and Makoto blushes at the heat slowly making its way down his chest to other places at the thought. The spell broken, Haru tugs at Rin's hand, pulling him closer, before pressing Makoto into the lockers behind him, kissing him hard before breaking away and pulling Rin's mouth against his, both of their hands running over Makoto's still-wet skin. The gasping sounds coming from all three of them fill the small room and it takes all of Makoto's self-control to convince Rin and Haru (and even himself) to wait until they're at Haru's.

Makoto blushes, sputters, and is wholly overwhelmed, particularly when Haru tells Makoto to stop trying to undo the buttons on his shirt when Haru's much faster at stripping himself anyways, and Rin's laugh echoes in the room until Haru breaks into his own quiet, half-hidden, laugh.

Which, oddly enough, makes Makoto feel infinitely better.

Suddenly, it isn't Makoto worrying about keeping both Rin and Haru engaged at once or that he'll accidentally favor one or the other while they figure things out. It reminds him that he's with Rin (biting, sarcastic, romantic Rin) and Haru (stoic, blunt, sensitive Haru) and even if they make a few blunders the first few times, they'll figure it out soon enough.

The moment allows Makoto to regain control over his shaking limbs, and even though their hands fumble over each other more than they caress, even though Haru nearly elbows Makoto in the face while they re-position themselves on the bed, even though Rin adamantly denies the tears in his eyes when Makoto says "I love you" over and over again while kissing down his back, even though none of them can last more than a few minutes at the rush of the other's hands working them to completion, it's absolutely perfect.

. . . . .

As much as Makoto wishes he could say everything goes smoothly, soulmates or not, their relationship takes some finessing. One day, when Rin comes to Haru's house exhausted from Samezuka's practice, he snaps at Makoto and Haru silently reading each other perfectly while they work on homework. He says it's annoying, but Makoto can guess it has more to do with feeling like the odd man out, the one sitting on the fence despite the fact Rin knows he's just as loved by both of them. He admits later that he knows that's a part of their relationship, always has been, but sometimes it's hard to not be a part of something that intimate when he's dating them, too. They promise to be more conscious of the habits they've developed in the time Rin was away, and Rin doesn't mention it again.

Two months into their relationship, it's Makoto who feels insecurity creeping up on him. It's after a joint practice with Samezuka, after Rin and Haru have raced to the point of breathless exhaustion, and Makoto, from his place above them, stopwatch in hand, sees the heated gaze that travels between them. He briefly wonders if Rin or Haru is going to kiss the other right here, right now, in the Samezuka pool with all of their teammates around to watch. It's the first time Makoto worries he's going to be left behind.

He tells them that night after a quiet dinner, Rin pausing the movie they're watching when he finally snaps over the unease radiating off of Makoto. He does sometimes wish Rin was a little less brash at moments like this, but it's better if they get these issues out in the open as early on as possible, he thinks.

"Watching the way you two drive each other, how one of you amplifies something in the other in a way that I've never been able to do…It's hard to be... I've always seen how you two fit together, I just don't always know where I belong in that, like I'm trying to force the sun and the stars to revolve around the earth."

Haru looks between him and Rin, just as Rin stands from his spot on the floor and moves behind Makoto, wrapping his arms around him and resting his forehead on Makoto's back. As he settles against him, Haru slides up against his side, leaning his forehead against Makoto's shoulder, pulling Makoto's hand into his own.

"If Rin's the sun and I'm the stars, then that makes you our sky."

Makoto feels Rin nodding against his back in agreement. Makoto doesn't cry often, but he can feel the blurring heat of tears pricking at his eyes.

"You know I love you both more than anything, right?"

"We love you too." Rin replies, the sound slightly muffled by the fabric of Makoto's shirt.

Haru climbs into Makoto's lap then, while Rin's hands find their way under his shirt. Even after only a few months together, there's less fumbling between the three of them, their kisses are less messy, and their movements are less out of sync. They breathe heavily against each other, ache for more of each other's touch, and Haru's breathless mumblings of his name when Makoto takes the length of him into his mouth are possibly the best sounds he's ever heard. That is, until Rin moans out Makoto's and Haru's names in a gravely, spent version of his voice when he comes from Haru's mouth around him and Makoto's lips bruising his own. Makoto can't pick a "favorite" between the two of them when they ask him later.

Rin and Haru are both adamant, though, that Makoto's sounds—his sharp intakes of breath when Rin goes down on him, maintaining eye-contact until he's fit as much of him into his mouth as he can; his drawn out moans when Haru's mouth sucks and kisses all over his neck and chest—are the best.

They collapse onto the two futons they've pushed together in Haru's room, just giving them all enough space to sleep next to each other when Rin stays with them on Friday and Saturday nights. Makoto's just starting to drift to sleep when he feels Rin shift beside him, pulling the covers with him a bit when he rolls to face him. At least Makoto gets to be in the middle tonight and doesn't have to worry about getting cold without enough blanket.

"Hey Makoto? You still awake?"

"Hmm?" He turns his head in Rin's direction at the sound of his name, spoken at a volume just above a whisper, the pillow beneath his head just barely dampening the sound of Haru's breathing and Rin's slight shuffling underneath the covers.

"I need to ask you something."

"What is it, Rin?" He pushes himself up onto his elbow as he peers down into Rin's gaze. Looking at Rin's hair spread across the pillow, his eyes a deeper red in the moonlit room, Makoto's about two seconds away from kissing Rin's perfect lips, when Rin speaks again.

"What happened at your training camp?"

That catches him of guard. He pulls away, probably looking like a deer in the headlights after what Rin has just asked, and puts a bit more space between himself and Rin. For a moment, Makoto sorts through all of their recent memories, if the training camp incident ever came up or if they ever explained how Haru had realized Makoto was his soulmate. He knows they told Rin about how Makoto's colors flickered when Haru almost drowned, but…he doesn't remember ever mentioning the other incident to Rin.

"Did Haru tell you about it?"

Rin shakes his head and sits up fully. With the movement of the sheets, Makoto follows Rin's lead. Haru flips over to face them, apparently not as heavily asleep as Makoto thought, and sighs while he pushes himself upright, crossing his legs under the blankets just as he did when they were twelve. Makoto would laugh at the parallelism of the two moments, if he wasn't desperately waiting for Rin's response.

"No, he didn't tell me. I was awake during the storm."

Haru's sharp intake of breath and the look he sends him fills him with warmth: if he was awake, Rin would have known…

"Rei went swimming in the middle of the night. Makoto went after him, but panicked when we were out in the waves and the storm… He almost…" Makoto watches Rin carefully as Haru's answer registers with Rin, plays out across his face, his eyes wide in the dark.

"So it wasn't you...?" Rin's eyebrows pull together, like he's waiting for someone to tell him the answer to a riddle he's nearly worked out. Haru shakes his head slowly, his gaze settling on Makoto when he finishes.

Makoto had never heard of someone having multiple soulmates before, even in all the research he'd read on colors, but it made sense if he and Rin were both Haru's...

It would explain why Makoto's always been drawn to both of them like a moth to a flame, a sailor to a siren's call.

Why he and Haru saw the rest of their colors when they found Rin.

Why he's always needed them.

Why he's always loved them.

"It was me. I almost drowned. That was when Haru realized-"

Rin's pushing him down onto the futon before he finishes, kissing him hard, and Makoto feels something wet fall lightly onto his face. He feels the weight of Rin's collapse on him, of his arms wrapped around him as tightly as he can manage in their awkward half-sitting, half-lying down position, and all Makoto can think to do is grasp at Rin, his own throat choked with unshed tears, which finally break free when Haru begins rubbing Rin's back and stroking Makoto's arm, moving seamlessly from one to the next at the bridge between Makoto's fingers and Rin's back.

Makoto knows it wouldn't have mattered, if they were soulmates or not, if they knew concretely or not. But—

It is nice to know.

. . . . .

While the sea foam greens and the jewel-toned turquoises Haru uses when he paints are still some of Makoto's favorites, he realizes the world's too stunning to pick just a single favorite, forever.

For a while, the light lavender that covers their first apartment's walls becomes a favorite. Rin bemoans the femininity, the pinkish hue totally unfitting for their room, but it means something to Makoto. It's their first step toward their lives together, away from the security of Iwatobi and into the fray.

Gold becomes a favorite too, when Rin wins his first Olympic medal, then his second. Gold, for the bands they buy each other two years later and the night they share their 'vows' with each other. While they know the rings don't legally mean anything, it's something wholly for them, a representation of their commitment to one another. And gold again, when Rin wins his third medal, places it proudly by his other two and the childhood relay trophy that sits beside them.

But Makoto knows concretely that even with the almost overwhelming number of beautiful colors in the world, nothing compares to the color of Haru's sapphire eyes (when he's staring down at a sleeping Rin, curled in his arms on their slightly too small sofa, when he's painting serene seas or crashing waves, when he's telling Makoto how much he loves him) and Rin's ruby pair (when he's watching Haru swim, when he's playing with his niece who shares his bright red hair and sharp teeth, when Makoto wakes up beside him and catches him staring, those warm eyes fixated solely on him).

. . . . .

They lose Haru first.

Even though they're in their seventies, it's unexpected, the heart attack that takes him. Makoto's greens and blues don't flicker, this isn't like when they were young and almost lost him: this time, they leave, and they don't come back.

The first night home without him, the first time Rin and Makoto face their suddenly too-big bed, is the worst night of their lives. They climb under the covers together, clutching at each other, and neither sleeps despite the exhaustion Makoto knows they both feel.

"I can't see reds and yellows anymore. I can't see the color of your skin, or your hair, or my own eyes… I always thought Haru would be blue, but…"

Regardless of how they've aged, Rin's never lost that touch of open vulnerability, and the way it breaks in his voice makes Makoto pull him closer, hold him tighter, even though there's no room left between them.

As much as they ache, as much as they miss him, they slowly adjust to their lives with only each other, only half their colors. They add his picture to their family shrine, and they still make mackerel every once in a while just to fill the house with its familiar and comforting smell. And even though it's far from perfect, far from seeing the colors they now lack, they learn to compensate for each other's missing colors.

"Do you remember the purple and red sunset we saw in Rio, the night after you won your first medal? It's similar to that, but with a bit more orange."

"It's sort of like…the turquoise of the pool at that hotel Haru convinced us to trespass at? Remember that one, the one with all the lights that came on underwater at night? Yeah, just like that."

"It's the same color pink of that horrible speedo Nagisa gave me as a college graduation present..."

"I'm not kidding, it's the same green as that disgusting clump of seaweed you somehow got tangled up in at that time at the beach and we spent the next twenty minutes pulling it off of you. It's that green."

"It's the same color as your hair, when we were younger."

"It's like Haru's eyes, when he was looking at water. Or when he was looking at us."

. . . . .

When they're eighty-four, Makoto wakes up to greys, to blacks and whites in place of the colors he knows should be there instead.

For the first time in his life, Makoto experiences a life without any colors, without either of his soulmates.

In the week after Rin passes, Nagisa comes to stay with him and while it isn't the same, he appreciates the company in the house that had started as Haru's and became theirs. He appreciates Nagisa's cheery smiles and unbound energy, despite the fact that he's too old to jump on Makoto's back like he used to, despite the fact that he's been living without Rei for nearly two decades.

"I'd never had just greys before. Even as a kid, I always had blues and greens, since I'd met Haru before I was even in kindergarten."

Some days are easier than others. His life is so full of memories of love and happiness, of Rin's smiles and Haru's eyes, of reds and blues and everything in between. Some days, that's enough to keep him from missing them to the point of paralysis, to keep him from feeling empty without them by his side.

Some days, it's not.

They're eating breakfast, when the memory of himself, Haru, Nagisa, and Gou first discussing how much Rin had changed after their first run in with him at the swim club. Makoto looks over at the spot that still holds the trophy from their first relay and Rin's medals, and an ache tugs at his chest.

"I hate to say that it gets easier, Mako-chan, but it does."

He looks back to Nagisa, catches the small, bittersweet smile Nagisa sends him, and Makoto can't help but send one back.

. . . . .

Three weeks after he loses Rin, he feels it in his bones, in his body.

He sees a flash of green when he looks outside at their backyard, the warm breeze gentle on his skin.

A flash of yellow when he looks at Nagisa's hair, the white of it still clinging to traces of the gold it once was, when he comes to visit him with Gou.

Blue, when he eases himself into the bath, the color of their tiles reflecting off the surface of the water.

Red, when he climbs into bed and glances at the pictures of the three of them on his bedside table.

Makoto looks at his pale hands, his skin thin and wrinkled, and sees the life the three of them had created together.

His eyelids feel heavy, heavier than usual.

It's a life filled with happy memories, of adventurous trips and of cozy nights at home, and warm friendships all throughout.

Makoto?

He knows that voice, has missed that voice for fourteen years.

A life speckled with wins, with bright smiles and long nights, and losses, with challenging hitches and bickering fights.

He remembers being six, watching Haru paint in blues and greens.

He didn't need to find his soulmate, he thought.

He's so glad he was wrong.

He's so glad he found them.

A life covered in broad strokes of understanding each other, of needing each other, of loving each other.

We missed you.

We haven't even been apart that long, he thinks, a smile pulling at his tired face at the other voice.

Are you saying you don't miss me?

Never.

Good. Ready?

As long as I'm with both of you.

A life full of color.